


Slippers on the Stair

by RachaelGold



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, unashamed fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 20:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14480337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RachaelGold/pseuds/RachaelGold
Summary: Kathryn has a Cinderella moment. Inspired by a wonderful fairy tale fiddle by Belanna, sadly no longer visible on the web.Setting: Post-Endgame and total fluff.





	Slippers on the Stair

A hushed silence comes over the crowd and an air of expectancy grips in the room. The moment Kathryn Janeway has dreaded is upon her. There is no avoiding this. The MC has called upon the former command team to open the dancing. Chakotay is standing on the far side of the room, wearing a huge dimpled grin and his eyes are twinkling at her. Her insides do a somersault. Damn him! He is clearly going to enjoy this. She straightens her back and lifts her head. She is a Starfleet Captain after all. 

Chakotay beams at his intended dance partner. She is looking stunning. She's wearing a truly remarkable dress. It has been made especially for her, and it shimmers all colours of the rainbow as she moves. It's like luminescent mother of pearl, and only serves to enhance the beauty and elegance of the wearer. Spirits, he'd all but forgotten how lovely this woman is, and he'd nearly fainted when he'd first seen her this evening. He'd thought Seven looked absolutely wonderful, when he'd called to bring her to the ball, but Kathryn quite simply eclipses every other woman here. He supposes that it is only right and proper; after all, she is the lady of the moment. He feels a momentary flicker of regret as he thinks of what might have been. If only Kathryn returned his feelings. 

He wonders at her hesitation, or is he just imagining things? Then he sees her take a determined step towards him and smile graciously. Oh good, the music is slow. He'll be able to take this beautiful creature in his arms, feel her soft skin under his palms, inhale her sweet perfume, dream for just a few minutes…. 

Damn! A slow song, thinks Kathryn. He'll have to hold her close. She isn't sure she can bear it. Will she be able to stop herself from trembling? Will her heart ever stop pounding? Will she avoid making a complete fool of herself? Will she betray her discomfort at being so close to the man she loves? 

Suddenly, she is in his arms, her head close to his chest, catching his masculine scent in her nostrils, and it begins to make her feel light-headed. They begin to swirl around the room as best they can to the music. Fortunately, it isn't long before a number of other couples join them and they are at least spared them the ignominy of having everybody's eyes just on them. 

"You're looking wonderful!" he ventures. 

"Thank you." 

"That dress is amazing!" 

"Good. Glad you think so." 

"How have you been?" 

"I'm good." 

"We haven't seen much of you," he complains. 

"They've kept me rather busy." It's not the whole truth, and Kathryn thinks he's an idiot, if he hasn't realised why. 

"That's a pity. We've rather missed you." She doesn't dignify this with an answer. 

A few more turns round the room and the end of the song seems not far away. Chakotay, relishing the proximity of his dear friend, savours the heat coming off her body and the press of her breasts on him. He wonders if he can manage to hold on to her for another song. Kathryn is beginning to feel relieved that the music is winding down. She can soon be out of here…as far away as possible. With a little luck, she may never be subjected to this torture again. She pulls back ever so slightly, trying to hide from the tingle his warmth is infusing in her. 

Chakotay is entering a dream-like state. Holding Kathryn so close is intoxicating, and he doesn't really know what comes over him. He leans forward and kisses her lightly on the forehead. He may never get another chance. She freezes, stiffening in his arms. Her eyes widen in shock. He feels the sudden distance as she pulls away. A couple of inches feel instantly like a mile. He is thrown into confusion. She takes another step back and she throws him a horrified look. He watches her in stupefaction, as his arms are suddenly empty, flailing in the empty space between them. A few more steps and she turns, striding purposefully away. He starts after her. She glances back almost in slow motion, and realises he is following her. 

"Kathryn?" calls her pursuer, somewhat bewildered. She lengthens her stride. Fortunately few people witness anything strange happening here. Soon, she reaches the open French windows, welcoming the draught of cool air surging in. She pushes past the soft drapes billowing in the wind. With relief she finds herself out on the verandah and she begins to run. A few strides take her to a monumental flight of stone stairs falling theatrically to the dark lawn below. She doesn't look back again. She knows he is still following…she senses him behind her. There is no earthly way she is going to allow herself to suffer the indignity of explaining herself to him. 

Half way down the stairs, she realises the futility of flight in these impossibly high heels. Impatiently, she shakes her left foot, and it takes a couple of swings to dislodge the silver sandal and send it scuttling sideways. Standing on her bare foot, she lifts her right leg and hurriedly tugs at the slipper. It comes away easily, and she throws it in frustration across the stairs far away from its mate. Unencumbered, she now lifts her skirts and flies freely down the remaining stairs. At last, the soft cool grass greets her feet. It is damp with dew, but she ignores this. She knows that escape is hers now; he can no longer match her speed, at least over a short distance. 

Chakotay is panicking. He is at the top of the steps now, berating himself for having kissed her. Whatever had possessed him? But why oh why had it upset her so much? He'd kissed her before, hugged her before. There had been many times when she'd needed it. It had been a loving, almost brotherly sign of his affection. 

He realises she is moving more swiftly, and the reason is soon apparent. He is surprised to see a discarded slipper on a stair, rudely sticking its heel up at the universe, incongruous to all the order around it. He stoops and lifts it, at a loss to know what could make Kathryn so desperate to escape. She has always faced problems head on. Flight is untypical of her. He casts his eyes about for the other shoe, and sees it lurking in the dark shadows. He retrieves it too. A peel of laughter erupts from a couple sharing intimate moments in the gloominess beneath the portico. He looks up to see if they are laughing at the spectacle he and Kathryn are making of themselves. He sees with relief that they are far too preoccupied with the reactions of their own bodies to notice what anyone else is doing. 

He pairs the shoes together, and they dangle from his right hand. He decides to go after her. Never mind what Seven may be thinking. This is far more important. He strides manfully after her, but her silvery form is well across the gardens now, heading for the darkness of the copse around the lake edge. He reaches the bottom of the steps, when the moonlight catches on her dress briefly before the blackness swallows her and she is gone. He tries to fix his eyes on the exact spot where she disappeared, but it is not easy. 

Despite the moonlight, the trees form a dark prison round the lake. His eyes search the blackness in vain. There is no sound, just the rustle of the wind as it tickles the thin leaves high above him and the reeds in the lake below. He sighs, as he wonders if searching for her now is futile, but he thinks she is unlikely to have gone far in her bare feet. 

He curses himself for the idiot that he is. Why on earth is he playing around with Seven, when he still holds such longing for his former Captain? He stands there miserably for a long time, and occasionally blinks away a silent tear. He looks up at the starry ceiling above him, and asks the sky spirits why they play such cruel tricks on him. Why do they bring such a wonderful woman into his life, force him to live and work beside her for seven years, while she never once returns his feelings? And then, just as he decides to move on, they get home, and their friendship seems to evaporate. In fact, she hates him so much, that she can't bear to dance with him. Hates him so much, that she runs away when he kisses her. 

It begins to dawn on his dull brain, that maybe she has stronger feelings for him than he has given her credit for. If he's honest with himself, he always suspected she wasn't happy with his liaison with Seven. Perhaps it wasn't just disapproval at their age difference. His heart is thumping, but he doesn't want to jump to conclusions. He still dare not let himself read too much into this incident. He's been heartbroken over Kathryn Janeway too many times to allow free rein to his dreams. 

He is beginning to wonder whether to return to the ballroom, when a man's voice drifts towards him. A few words hang on the wind. He's not sure who is speaking, but then another answers. The second voice he knows. It's Kathryn's. He creeps closer, eager to discover her. 

Owen Paris has been sitting on a bench in front of the lake for some time, enjoying his escape from the noise of the ballroom, and he grins in amusement when his former protégée comes bowling past him. She begins to dance in discomfort, as the stony path claws at her feet. He bids her to sit down and relax for a moment. She dumps herself with a frustrated huff next to the solid comfort of the old man, who has become something of a father figure to her. He has a very sympathetic ear, and a heartfelt concern for the woman who caught his eye all those years ago, and now is responsible for bringing his own son back to him. 

He isn't stupid either. He can read between the lines, and doesn't push her too much for an explanation for her flight or her lack of shoes. He's past interfering in her love life, but he offers what comfort he can. He knows without being told that this is about a certain First Officer, and he tells her he's not worth it. She isn't sure she agrees with him. She tells him how they got home too late. That if it had only been a few weeks earlier, things might have been very different. If only they'd gotten home before she'd lost his affection. 

Chakotay only hears the end of the conversation. It resembles a jigsaw with some of the pieces missing, but as he listens, more and more of the words penetrate the bluster of the wind and the haunting birdsong, and gradually the picture begins to take some form. 

"I know what you gave up, my dear. I sometimes think Starfleet asks too much of us. Some sacrifices are too great. You've paid a higher price than most." 

Kathryn says something, but he cannot make out what it is. 

"Well, you're still young, Katie." Kathryn raises her eyebrows at this. "Yes, you are. And as beautiful as ever," says Owen, patting her hand. "I've seen them queuing up! Someone deserving will come along soon. To my mind, you've plenty of time." Chakotay catches his breath. He remembers saying almost the same words to Kathryn once…a long long time ago. 

"Some consolation!" 

"What about that rather handsome young man you brought with you tonight? Someone you met at Command School, isn't he?" 

"He's more attracted to men, Owen!" she laughs. 

"Oh!" 

"That's why I asked him. He won't be expecting a grope when we get home…and I really couldn't face that just yet..." 

Owen shakes his head in disbelief. "Well, I never spotted that…" 

"And, before you say anything, he was more than delighted to oblige." 

"Still, I'm not wrong, am I? They are queuing up. You're quite the glamorous heroine." 

She sighs. "There's a few," she admits. "But I'm not ready. My heart is still in pieces. I don't know if I'll ever…" Chakotay's heart is pumping now. He's realising that she is heartbroken, and he knows, though he hardly dares to believe, that it is over him. He's done this to her. He's broken his promise to stay by her side. He's caused this heartache, by letting her think he doesn't love her anymore. He curses himself for being such an idiot. How could he not see what he was doing to her? How did he misread the signals? How did he manage to go seven years without understanding that she cared for him? How could he have messed this up so badly? 

"Shall I fetch your shoes for you, young lady?" 

"Please," she says gratefully. "I think Chakotay may have them." 

He harrumphs, pats her knee and slowly levers his impressive bulk up off the chair. "Think I might give the man a piece of my mind. If he can't see that you're worth ten of the blonde Borg, then he's an idiot!" Now, there is no doubt. It _is_ him they're talking about. 

"Please, don't say anything, Owen." 

"And he definitely doesn't deserve you." The man lumbers wearily up the slope towards the twinkling lights of the ballroom. 

Chakotay edges forward. "Kathryn?" he ventures, his voice rising on the wind. She sits up with a jolt, realising he is near, and she prays that he didn't hear any of her conversation with Owen. She hears the twigs crackling under his feet as he approaches, and she stands in alarm and shoots for the cover of nearby trees. Then she chastises herself for her stupidity. Since when did the woman who could face the Borg and the Hirogen have to hide from her dear friend? But she knows the answer. It's since they've been home and the impossibility of a relationship with him has been slammed firmly and finally into her face. The irony is that it has happened at exactly the time when she had hoped that particular door would be opening. 

He reaches the seat where Kathryn had been sitting, and sees that she has fled again. He casts his eyes about. The moon extends a bright streak of white light across the lake and it is not quite pitch dark. It ought to be enough to enable him to see her, but he realises that she has probably shrouded herself in the blackness of the trees. 

"Kathryn," he calls again. "Please come out. Talk to me!" but the words are left unanswered. The owls in the trees seem to mock him. He wonders for a moment if she's gone, but a faint shimmer of light shows amongst the dark towering tree trunks. He steps towards it. 

"I have your shoes!" Still no answer comes. "I'm sorry Kathryn. I know my association with Seven has hurt you. I didn't realise…Owen's wrong, Kathryn. You're not worth ten of her. You're worth a thousand!" 

Kathryn is mortified. He _has_ heard her conversation with Owen. Damn. Could anything be more humiliating? She must be an object of scorn. All these years, she played the untouchable Captain. Now, just as she wants to let down the barriers, well….Oh G..d, he must be having a huge laugh at her expense! She leans her back despondently into a solid tree trunk, trying to absorb strength from it. 

"Come out, Kathryn, please. I want you to know there is nothing of any significance between Seven and me. I don't love her. I've just been steering her through her first few weeks on earth…You seem to have been avoiding the job…" 

Kathryn's wondering if she's heard right. She pulls up and starts to turn towards him. She thinks she'd better retrieve her shoes at least. 

"I know you're there!" As if to confirm his words, he catches the moon-glint again as it caresses the folds of her dress…and yes, that sounded definitely like a rustle of skirts. He edges along the path. He is within inches of her now, and he's sure he can hear her breathing. "Kathryn, wouldn't you like your shoes back?" he asks a shadowy shape amongst the bushes, that could be little more than his imagination. She steps forward with resignation, and the moonlight suddenly spills across her form, softly illuminating her in its silvery glow. She glances down at her sorry feet. They are probably cut and bruised. Muddy too…it's difficult to tell in this light. She hopes the dress has fared better, and it at least appears to have survived unscathed. 

He offers the shoes, and she has to hold his arms while she puts the shoes back on, so he supports her under her elbow. She shivers, and he gallantly shrugs his jacket and wraps it around her shoulders to keep her warm. 

"Better?" 

"Yes. Thanks. G..d, this is so embarrassing." 

"Oh, I think you're allowed the odd moment of madness after everything you've been through." 

"I suppose they're all wondering what's going on?" 

"No. I don't think anyone's noticed. Only me." 

"You're one too many." 

"Don't beat yourself up. I've been known to do a few stupid things myself. Dating Seven for instance." Kathryn pulls back. She's not sure she wants to face this. "Kathryn, I heard what you and Owen were talking about." 

"Please, forget it Chakotay!" 

"Well, I don't think I could if I wanted to. Kathryn Janeway, are you in love with me?" 

"Don't push it! Please… I feel humiliated enough as it is," she pleads. 

"Well, I want an answer." 

"What do you want me to say?" 

"The truth. After seven years together, I think that's what we owe each other." 

"Some things are better left unsaid." She starts to move away from him, and he grabs her wrist and pulls her firmly back to him. He isn't letting her escape now. His heart is pounding, and he wants the hear her say the very words he has dreamed of all these years. 

"And some things are better out in the open. In fact, it would be a tragedy if they were never spoken." He waits, full of anticipation, but her eyes are downcast and she is struggling with her emotions. She has spent weeks conditioning herself to accept that his love is no longer hers, and it is taking a monumental effort for her to wrestle with it. He reaches out and softly touches her chin. "All right, I'll go first. I love you, Kathryn Janeway, I always have. I always will. And I want to live the rest of my life with you." Her head lifts, and the light catches on the huge liquid pools that are her eyes. Tears are close. 

"You mean…?" but words fail her. 

"Yes. I _do_ love you. _Only_ you. The question is: do you love me?" Her throat is constricting, and there is an interminable silence stretching out, but she takes a hesitant step back towards him. "Kathryn, for G..d's sake, say something! I am seconds away from being the most ecstatic man in the alpha quadrant!" Her breath hitches. 

"Yes." One simple little word, and it can never be taken back now. The truth is finally out there, and the joy of revelation engulfs both of them. She falls at long last into his welcoming arms. "Of course I love you, Chakotay!" 

Their bodies press urgently together. Their lips meet, and they're devouring each other ravenously. This is a decidedly different kiss from anything that has ever passed between them in the past. 

They break for breath, and he holds her delicious body close to his, inhales her sweet perfume for the second time tonight. "What did you say?" he teases. "I didn't quite catch that." 

"I said, I love you," she laughs. His heart swells. It _has_ only been seconds. And just at that moment, he _is_ the most ecstatic man in the alpha quadrant. No, make that the universe! 

  



End file.
